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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28835481">Durin's Day</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootiesweep/pseuds/sootiesweep'>sootiesweep</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Hall of the Anaman Fuar [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blue Mountains | Ered Luin, Brotherly Love, Durin's Day, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erebor, Fíli and Kíli Brotherly Love, Fíli-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Traditions, Worry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:34:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,369</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28835481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootiesweep/pseuds/sootiesweep</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Set around T.A. 2930-2940 (a few years before the events of The Hobbit).</p><p>Fíli is the second heir to the throne. Kíli finds him one night by a quiet fireplace, near-empty tankard in hand, flames mirrored in his eyes. It is Durin's Day.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fíli &amp; Kíli (Tolkien)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Hall of the Anaman Fuar [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114337</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Durin's Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fíli didn’t stir as Kíli plumped down beside him - grinning, heart racing from the dancing and games.</p><p>The younger brother had found Fíli only a few moments earlier. He was sitting ankles crossed, knees to his chest in front of the fire, staring into the flames.</p><p>“I noticed you weren’t with the others,” inquired Kíli. As an immediate reply was not given, the excitable dwarf continued, catching his brother up to speed with the celebrations. “Nori ‘found’ some extra ale round the back - the proper stuff - and I’m pretty sure Gloin’s already started betting who’s going to finish theirs first. He isn’t usually this confident - but, well - <em>I reckon</em> it’s that maid of his, what’s her name again? Durin, I can never remember - you know, the ginger lass - but Uncle’s already halfway to Erebor by the amount he’s gone through, and Mother’s still trying to talk some sense into him. Which is hilarious really, as she’s practically as drunk as he is - and they can’t even hear each other over that <em>bloody harp of his</em>!” Kíli chortled, and he looked over his shoulder towards the distant tinkling of some familiar instrument.</p><p>Kíli turned back to his brother, but as his eyes assessed Fíli’s face, his exuberant grin faded. The elder brother stared into the flame, steely eyes reflecting the dancing figures. His brow was creased in numb thought, and the hand holding his amber ale was shaking, ever so slightly.</p><p>Kíli eased the tankard from Fíli’s hands. Every year was the same.</p><p>He tilted his head back and drained what little was left of the strong drink.</p><p>Neither spoke for a long time.</p><p>The dim fire crackled, and the cheered rumblings and antics of the other dwarves echoed along the hall.</p><p>“Fíli…”</p><p>His brother, still, did not reply.</p><p>Kíli hesitantly laid a hand on Fíli’s shoulder. “Fíli, come join us - take your mind off things. It’s the same every year - I know that - but you don’t even have to think about i-”</p><p>“How can I not ‘<em>think about it</em>’?” Fíli finally met his brother’s intent gaze. But his words were quiet, exasperated; alcohol softening his tongue. And his eyes seemed… they seemed sad.</p><p>The elder sighed heavily, turning to face the fire once more.</p><p>“It’s Durin’s Day, Kíli, you know what that means.” They both did. Fíli continued. “It means stories. It means praising the forefathers, singing old songs. It means tales of times gone by… and… <em>lost kingdoms</em>.” He practically spat the last gilded title into the flames in front of him.</p><p>He fiddled with a stray thread of the rug that they were sitting on.</p><p>Kíli was quiet.</p><p>“I’m the heir to the throne. That means - after Thorin - I’m King. <em>King</em>. Not just a son of the throne, but the one sitting on it. King of a kingdom I’ve never even laid eyes on.”</p><p>He pulled the thread from the rug and threw it into the fire spitefully.</p><p>Kíli watched his older brother with knowing eyes. His hunched posture, his frown, the slight shake in his hand. He thought, and then spoke.</p><p>“But that’s the point, isn’t it? That’s what we’re here for, you and me. We’ve been brought up on tales of the mountain - it’s our destiny, our fate. Once Thorin finds his fath- our Grandfather - we’ll be all set! We’ve been waiting our whole lives for this, Fíli. You <em>know </em>that…”. Kíli furrowed his brow, and a frustrated tone began to creep into his voice.</p><p>“So why - every year - do you ask yourself the same questions? Why, every year, do you push us aside for your- your <em>fire</em> and your <em>ale</em>” - he gestured angrily to the empty tankard by his side - “and your <em>doubts</em>. Why do you doubt whether you’ll be a good and noble King, when we all know you will be the greatest out of <em>any</em> and <em>every</em> one of us.”</p><p>A silence filled the space between them once more, and Fíli only shook his head.</p><p>“You know why,” he said quietly, as if to himself.</p><p>“Do I?” probed Kíli.</p><p>“Yes, you do,” Fíli retorted, too tired with his little brother’s pestering, insistent nature at this time of night. Ancient lullabies boomed around his aching head, and he rubbed his stinging eyes, dry and swimming after staring into the hot fire for so long.</p><p>He didn’t have time for this. Despite Kíli’s efforts to maintain the conversation, Fíli rose to his feet - the younger brother jumping to his own as Fíli swayed and stumbled slightly.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he mumbled. “I’m fine. I’m just going to get another-”</p><p>But Kíli steadied his brother by the shoulders and spoke firmly.</p><p>“Fíli, you need to rest. I’ll go get Amad and we can…”</p><p>But the rest of his words were lost as Fíli broke eye contact and turned his head towards the far end of the hall, to where the low rumbling sound of dwarves in song had just begun.</p><p>
  <em>“Far over, the Misty Mountains cold…”</em>
</p><p>The prince’s face grew taut and his jaw clenched.</p><p>How was he to be a king? Here he was, drowning his sorrows till his head rang, and his little brother - oh Kili - the only thing preventing him from collapsing to the floor. His little brother; his ever-positive, enthusiastic, <em>trusting</em> little brother. How was he to explain what it’s like, to be hounded, fitted, molded, <em>blessed</em> with the promise of the crown.</p><p><em>What a blessing</em>, Fíli grimaced. He tried to shake his brother’s hands from his shoulders.</p><p>Kíli held firm.</p><p>“Kíli, let me go. I’m fine,” he reassured his brother softly, his foggy mind disallowing Fíli to express his annoyance - could Kíli just - <em>lay off</em>.</p><p>“No- no, Fíli, You’re not fine,” Kíli insisted. “We’re going to take you home - now.” His brow was furrowed and the concern visible in his eyes.</p><p>Kíli went to wrap his brother’s arm around his own shoulders, but Fíli yanked free, pushing against Kíli’s chest and stumbling backwards. He crashed into the heavy table behind them, the toppled goblets ringing.</p><p>A few heads turned.</p><p>Kíli immediately plastered a well trained grin to his face and waved to the elders, who shared glances and returned to their merry-making - thinking nothing of the ‘playful young lads’. Kíli’s reassuring, joking smirk dropped from his face as their attention was lost, and he shot his brother a hard glower instead.</p><p>Fíli took no notice, instead asking, “Was it Nori you mentioned earlier? Might go find him.”</p><p>“No you won’t,” Kíli almost growled to his brother. “Why won’t you speak with me, Fíli? You need to explain what’s going on.”</p><p>“I don’t - <em>need</em> - to do anything,” replied Fíli, levering himself down onto the wooden bench behind him, once again ignoring another goblet he sent sliding and clattering to the floor. His thick voice choked. “You say I’m a King, no? Isn’t that - what Kings do? Lounge in their treasures - heeding not for their people nor sons, heeding not as a dragon desecrates their halls, and lays their army low?”</p><p>And there it was. There was the answer Kíli was looking for. The reason why Fíli would spend every Durin’s Day alone by his quiet fire, dampening his fears with ale and talking to no one.</p><p>Because no matter how trusting his little brother was, how trusting they <em>all</em> were… what if he fell, too. Like Thror, like Thráin. What if he - upon holding that crown - forgot of his brother. Would he barter his kin for the glint of a bright jewel, or the call of a distant quarrel? Would he trade the life of his brother for that of his gold? What was there to say that he wouldn’t… that he wouldn’t…</p><p>What if he was so blinded by it all, Kíli would become a distant memory - hardly a shadow at the back of his mind, buried forever under the heavy gold. Who would be there to look after him? To laugh with him? To <em>protect</em> him…</p><p>Durin - who would be there to <em>die</em> with him?</p><p>He couldn’t let that happen - he had to be there, always. He would never allow himself to fall. To fall under that dragon sickness, and never awake. But…</p><p>Like Kíli said… <em>it’s fate, isn’t it?</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh Fíli :(</p><p>I wanted to show a different side to him through this - but I was consciously aware that by isolating him in this new way, we might loose sight of the character we already know. And I did *not* want that to happen. I really hope that the way I've portrayed him (and Kíli) here feels realistic. </p><p>I'm not as proud of this as I am my other one, but like I say, I wanted to show a different side of Fíli - a side that's much more hidden. And so, I came up with the headcanon that Fíli - while at least relatively sober - can't stand Durin's Day. The celebrations, the patriotism. All the old songs and prophecies weigh heavy on his young heart, as he knows they all have laid their trust in him. They trust Fíli to be King... but he doesn't trust himself at all.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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